


Iatrok

by willowoak_walker



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Other, Pre-Canon, Season: COUNTER/Weight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 08:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15904350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowoak_walker/pseuds/willowoak_walker
Summary: Friends at the Table NBslash fic forwendymakespunson twitter! Thanks for encouraging me to write our favorite fish/robot ship. :D(And giving me an excuse to write a poem :D )





	Iatrok

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badskeletonpuns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/gifts).



Cass gets the gash in Mako Trig’s arm sealed up and tells him to be more careful. Trig says ‘Okay!’ and bounces out of the medbay with without any obvious interest in actually taking Cass’ advice. Cass sighs.

   “Are  _ you _ going to be more careful?” They ask Aria Joie, actually Aria Joie.

   “I’ll try,” Aria Joie says. “Are you going to stop looking at me as if I just stepped out of one of my music videos?”

   “I’ll try,” Cass says. “Let me check your wrist.” Aria Joie holds her wrist out obediently. Cass goes through the usual routine of ‘bend it this way, does that hurt? wiggle all your fingers for me,” and other medical things. They’ve been working with humans long enough that the briefness of the webbing between their fingers no longer makes Cass want to check scar tissue. It’s still strange though. It’s never not strange.

   “You’re bruised, and strained, but not sprained,” they say. “Rest up, use that hand as little as you can for the next day or two, and talk to me if it gets worse, or if it still hurts the same amount tomorrow.”

   “All right,” Joie says. “Are you okay?”

   Cass shrugs. “Scrapes, bruises, I lost a couple of scales — I’ll be fine.”

   “Do you need someone to help you reach your back or anything?” Joie asks.

   “Is that an offer?”

   “Yes.”

   Cass sighs. This is embarrassing, but less embarrassing than going to Koda later and saying ‘I lost two scales and now it’s infected.’ They hand Joie the tube of disinfectant sealant and the box of spot bandages. “I appreciate it.” They pull off their chiton — ow — and turn their back to Joie.

   “There’s a patch of scales a little over half-way up my spine.”

   “I see it,” Joie says.

   “It feels like I lost a couple from the edge,” Cass says.

   “Uh,” Joie says. “I don’t know how to tell.”

   “Oh.” Cass says. “Drat.” They scratch at the edges of their too-dry neck gills. How can they explain this to a human, with their alien natures?

   “I see it,” AuDy, the robot pilot, says. Cass and Joie both turn to look at them. Most of the Automated Dynamics units Cass sees parking cars are roughly human-sized. Roughly the size of the driver of the car they’re parking.

   AuDy seems to have chosen to move through the world with the springs and folds that allow them to adjust that way fully extended. They’re big.

   “I will sanitize my hands and provide assistance,” they announce, and move past Joie to the sink.

   “Why do you know Apostolosian first aid?” Cass asks.

   “I know many things,” AuDy says. Cass looks at Joie, who gives a sloppy shrug unlike those Cass has seen in recordings of her performances.

   “I have performed maintenance on many mechs and some non-sentient robots,” Cass says. “If you need, mm, robot first aid, I might be able to help.”

   “My hands are sanitized,” AuDy says — accurately, Cass watched.

   “Here,” Joie says, and AuDy comes around behind Cass.

   “This injury is more severe than you described,” AuDy says.

   “It is?”

   “Several scales are out of alignment and all are scratched.”

   Cass shrugs. Ow. “That doesn’t risk infection.” AuDy begins applying the disinfectant, cool against Cass’ skin.

   “I will require a larger bandage,” AuDy says, ignoring Cass. Joie looks between the two of them.

   “Second drawer left of the sink,” Cass says. Joie retrieves the box of bandages labeled ‘Apo Surface Minor’. “Yes, those,” Cass says. The painkilling qualities of the disinfectant are beginning to kick in, and AuDy was right. Cass had assumed that some of the surface pain that is numbing now was from the deeper muscle strains and bruises. Just having the scrape treated makes Cass’ whole body feel better. AuDy applies the bandage and hands the box back to Joie.

   “Thank you,” Cass says, and turns around. “Let me have a look at you now.”

   “I am a robot,” AuDy says.

   “I am a mech pilot,” Cass says. “I’m not a roboticist, but I can probably help with the relatively minor problems like the scratches in your view-dome.”

   “It is difficult to locate those by myself,” AuDy admits. Joie waves from the door of the medbay, heading out.

   “Let’s head down to the hangar,” Cass says, “I’ve got some sandpaper and glass sealant down there.”

   They walk down in silence until AuDy declares, apropo of nothing, “I am a person.”

   “Yes,” Cass says.

   “Your mech is not a person.”

   “Nope,” Cass says. “I’ll move some basic tools up to the medbay after this.”

   “People need doctors sometimes,” AuDy says.

   “Yes,” Cass says. “People need doctors.

 

——

 

   This job is going poorly. Mako’s having trouble with the ICE in the system, apparently, which somehow means he needs to stand there holding the terminal until he’s done.

   Cass has worked with hackers before, but evidently Mako’s special. “I  _ fog _ things with my  _ brain _ ,” he’d ...explained.

   But what that means right now is that Cass is pinned down defending him, Aria is making the biggest distraction she can with the  _ Regent’s Brilliance _ , and they’ve lost contact with AuDy.

   Cass leans around the doorway to check if there are any more security guards. Not yet. Mako isn’t moving yet either.

   It’s just like the war. 80% waiting, 10% panic, 10% cleaning up blood. Maybe Cass should have finished their medical degree.

   But then they wouldn’t know AuDy, or Aria and Mako, and probably not even Orth Godlove, who brought them all together and stuffed them on a ship with more history than function, just because he needed one odd little thing done.

   Well, it’s been twenty odd little jobs now, and a number of things for other people. And this isn’t going to be the last. It isn’t.

   Right on cue, a five-squad turns the corner and Cass moves from waiting to panic. They step into the hallway and say, “Is this the way to the bathroom?” It gets them the moment they need to have the discrete stun grenade rolling toward the squad before one of them catches up with the situation.

   “An Apostolosian! Get them!” Mako would say ‘wow, racist,’ or something. Cass is too busy flinging themself toward the floor with their gun firing at the speaker. They close their eyes as the stun grenade goes off, but nothing will help with the concussion and the noise. They roll to their feet deafened and shaken, but the squad is in far worse shape, blinking blinded.

   The job calls for no killing. The squad wears bullet-proof vests which will definitely keep out the sedative darts Cass has ready.

   They step closer, wary. A human might not have fragile neck-gills, but there are still plenty of vulnerable things above the vest that Cass could hit lethally. One raises their hands to their face, and Cass shoots their hand. Non-lethal.

   The guard crumples. None of the others provide such easy targets, though, so Cass shoots the chatty one in the leg. It goes in.

   Their pants aren’t armored. Sloppy. Cass takes the rest down easily. Like shooting pigs in a kennel. Or whatever the idiom is.

   The next squad shows up while Cass is still dragging their unconscious comrades into an empty room and out of the way.

   Apo _ thesa _ , why is nothing going right today? Cass spins, rolls, and takes two shots, but they’re out of darts now.

   There’s a sound of screeching metal over the voices of the guards and Cass’ dry panting. AuDy steps through the wall and fires their own version of the dart gun. Cass’ heart leaps.

   Cass takes advantage of the guards’ distraction to reload, but by the time they’ve finished AuDy’s taken all the guards down.

   “Thanks,” Cass pants.

   “Yes,” AuDy says. “Where is Mako?”

   “In there,” Cass says. “He’s a little stuck.” AuDy puts their hand on Cass’ shoulder for a moment, then leans around the door.

   “Do not be subtle,” AuDy says.

   “Okay,” Mako says, his voice strange. He pulls away from the console as if there’s still something connecting him to it, as if he’s pulling against some kind of tie. But he does pull away.

   “It’s time to run,” AuDy says, so they do, all three, out through the hole AuDy made for them and into the street where the _ Regent’s Brilliance _ is fighting. Aria must see them sprinting out, because she makes a break for it herself. The flashing color of the  _ Brilliance _ vanishes into the distance, and the car AuDy hijacked takes them off in a different direction. Later, they’ll meet back to celebrate a job done if not well, then at least well enough.

 

——

 

   “So,” Cene Sixheart says when Cass is up to their elbows in a non-AuDy parking robot’s adaptation system, “Why does an  _ iatroek _ want lessons in robot repair?”

   “ _ Iatrok _ ,” Cass says absently, “But well researched. Why wouldn’t a doctor want to be able to fix a robot?”

   “Why would one?” Sixheart asked. “Where’s the problem in that system you’ve got your hands in?”

   “Upper left fluid-pump,” Cass says. “I want to … weld this crack for now and replace the pump later?”

   “That’ll work,” Sixheart says, “But depending on the quality of the metal you might not even need to replace the pump.”

   “How do I tell?” Cass asks.

   “Well, you see if it breaks,” Sixheart says. “Don’t forget to clean the area before welding, we don’t want to start a fire.”

   Cass nods and sets to it. Their welding mask has been modified to also protect their gills. They focus so hard on the operation that they almost miss what Sixheart says.

   “An  _ iatrok _ isn’t a doctor, though. It’s a person who has decided that they are devoted to ensuring the health of the people within their reach, whether that is their profession or not.” Cass sighs heavily, fogging their mask. Of all the moments for a human to understand something Apostolosian…

   “Also there’s some gender things,” Sixheart says, “But I don’t know how those work.”

   “It’s not gender,” Cass says. “If gender were like  _ eidolosnei _ it would make sense.”

   Sixheart snorts. “Fair enough. So. Why does an  _ iatrok _ want to know ‘just the basics’ of robotic repair and maintenance?”

   Cass sits back on their heels and watches the weld cool. “You know AuDy.”

   “Yeah,” Sixheart says.

   “So do I,” Cass says. “Do I have to let this thing cool all the way before I can repressurise the system?”

   “Yes,” Sixheart says, “But you can use that time to check the rest of the bot. Odds are, one problem hides another.”

   “They always do,” says Cass, who is an  _ iatrok _ with a robot person in their reach. “They always do.”

 

——

 

Mako and Aria are watching a movie in the common room. Cass sighs and shakes their head. What a day to get back early. 

“You didn’t say  _ Cass _ was in this movie!” Mako says. Cass blinks.

“I didn’t realize it was  _ our _ Cass,” Aria says. She sounds upset. Cass moves without thinking. Aria very seldom sounds that upset. They step all the way into the common room. There’s an Apostolosian calling another on the screen. Cass turns to Aria, who is staring at them with wide, unhappy eyes.

“Oh no,” Mako says beside her, his face a perfect copy.

_ “At least you know what you’re doing is good,”  _ says the movie.

“What’s the matter?” Cass asks. “Who’s hurt?” 

   “ _ They tried to blow up the hospital, Sokrates,” _ the movie says. Cass turns to it, startled.  _ “When we have patients from the other side, they look at us like we’re monsters. This war -- it needs to end.”  _ There are tears in the speaker’s eyes, which isn’t how Apostolosians cry. 

_ “I know, Cass, I know.” _

_ “I wish I could just do my job,” _ movie-Cass says. Music swells behind them. Sad strings, military drums, a single wind instrument playing the Empire’s national anthem. Cass sits down on the sofa -- and when did they get there?  _ “But we’re scions of the Empire, Sokrates, I can’t stop looking at the larger picture, and it isn’t good.” _ It’s a good translation. Fuck, had someone  _ recorded  _ this conversation?

“ _ I love you, _ ” movie-Sokrates says, reaching for the screen. “ _ Cass, you’re a good person. It’s going to be all right.”  _ They’d skipped a bit, the movie’s writers. They’d skipped a lot.

Maybe it wasn’t a recording, it was just -- just  Movie-Cass laughs and reaches back, a smile twisting their face with disbelief.  _ “No, it’s not. But I love you too.”  _ That wasn’t what Cass had said. They’d put their head in their hands and said they weren’t five anymore. That they didn’t appreciate the lie. 

They’d said, “The sooner the war ends the better, but it’s scarred our people already. Euanthes might not wake up. Our people are traumatized. They -- we -- doubt the Apokine. We -- Sokrates, you can’t fix it.”

“I know,” Sokrates had said. “But I have to try. Take care of yourself, clear eyes. I  _ do  _ love you.”

“I love you, too,” Cass had said. They’d gotten that much right. 

In the movie, in the present, Aria is singing about a sibling’s love, about responsibility. About making choices and changes.

Mako cuts it off.

“No,” Cass says, with their head between their knees, “Let her finish the song.”

Aria, the real Aria, right now in the present, sings it for them and rubs their back. Mako must have pulled up the backing track from somewhere, because it sounds just the same. It sounds like someone loving them.

Air whistles through their gills and they drag it into their lungs as well. This  _ is  _ how Apostolosians cry.

It’s been so long since they had a family. But Mako sits at their feet and makes nonsense noises, and AuDy stands behind them without comment, and Aria sings, and…

That song sounds like Sokrates.

 

——

  
  


   “I know you know how to dance,” Cass says to Aria, “But do you know how to waltz?”

   “Let me show you,” Aria says, standing up to take their hands. She’s smaller in person then her vids make her seem, a good ten centimeters shorter than Cass. Mako is smaller still, if you can get him to stand still long enough to measure. AuDy, of course, is whatever size they want to be, and they want to be big. But Aria’s a good height for dancing.

  “Mako, would you turn on a waltz?” She asks. Mako waves his hands like a magician and music starts. One of Aria’s songs, romantic and sweet.

 

_  Seeing you is different from seeing someone else _

_    Whatever other people think of you _

_    You’re perfect. _

 

   It’s not a waltz, though. “A waltz is has a different kind of rhythm from that,” Cass says. “It’s one-two-three, one-two-three…” Aria steps out, leading Cass with a slightly different form from the one they were taught; whether that’s just Aria or a wider cultural trend, Cass is too busy dancing to guess.

   They like dancing, but they never had the chance to get good. Aria’s dance experience shows. She is blatantly excellent.

   “You had better teach Mako,” Cass tells her.

   “I will dance with you,” AuDy announces, and Aria spins Cass into their arms. Mako changes the song to an actual waltz. Cass stands almost frozen with their hands in the best possible approximation of a waltz-hold on AuDy’s shoulderless body. AuDy’s torso radiates heat from their internal engine, for all that their hands are cool. It’s strangely intimate.

   “You know how to waltz?” Cass says, for lack of anything better.

   “I know many things,” AuDy says, and steps forward. Cass follows.

 

_    Where were you when I was waiting for someone? _

_    Where were you when I was always alone? _

_    Where were you when I knew that I was lonely _

_    Knew I’d spend all of my life on my own? _

 

   AuDy’s hands are sure on Cass’, and their steps are in time with the music. They don’t have the technical excellence of Aria, who is explaining the basics to Mako, but they are so big and so light on their feet that Cass feels swept away, as if they are some strange creature composed mostly of music and the feel of AuDy’s hands.

 

_    Here you are, though I had given up waiting, _

_    Here you are, and I’m no longer alone. _

_    Here you are, though I had thought I was lonely, _

_    Telling me that my whole life is my own. _

 

   “You are relaxing,” AuDy says.

   They are, they know they are. The polite thing would be not to mention it. AuDy has never bothered to be polite. “I haven’t danced in a while,” Cass says.

   “You are dancing now,” AuDy says.

 

_    I always knew I was built just for service, _

_    Always knew life was not mine to enjoy, _

_    Here you are telling me I was mistaken _

_    Telling me I’m not necessity’s toy. _

 

   Cass finds themself leaning in to AuDy, closer than the dance calls for. Closer than is decorous. AuDy enfolds them. They rest their cheek against the warm glass of AuDy’s view-dome. Leaving smears, no doubt, but they can wipe those off later. Their hands have wandered lower, to trace the joints of AuDy’s hips, the line of solder Cass put in below AuDy’s bullet-proof jacket.

   A scar.

   They’ve stopped dancing, are just standing there, Cass’s breath fogging AuDy’s glass. Mako and Aria are still dancing, Cass can hear them.

   But Cass doesn’t look at them. Doesn’t need to, not where they are now. Not held in the arms of someone who doesn’t care a fig about the Apostolosian Empire or Cass’ place in its hierarchy. In AuDy’s arms, Cass doesn’t need to think about who they used to be.

   They rub their thumb against that line of solder. AuDy doesn’t have sensation there and never had. But they also don’t have their inner mechanisms exposed. Cass did that.

   With AuDy holding them like this that feels almost as if it’s enough.

 

_ Here we are, though they have found our replacements, _

_    Here we are, sharing free lives of our own _

_    Here we are, not minding what we are missing _

_    Here we are, and we are never alone. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
